


Gazelle Unfettered

by SkycladFox



Series: Zootopian Tails [6]
Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Conversations, Drama, Fluff, Humor, Intimacy, Multi, Music, Nudism, Nudity, Public Nudity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2020-10-04 06:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20466587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkycladFox/pseuds/SkycladFox
Summary: Zootopia's favourite singer has recorded a new album, her most personal yet.  A brave choice of cover leads, through an eventful photoshoot, a tense interview, a confrontation with her past and conflict with her label, to a very special concert that may be the end of her...or a whole new beginning...





	1. The Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Reading prior fics in this series isn't absolutely necessary, but certainly recommended, 'Letting Off Steam' and 'Healing at the Oasis' particularly.

Gazelle took the sheath of glossy printouts from her personal assistant, a melanistic coyote with brindled charcoal and ash grey fur, smiling her thanks. While the canine retired to a laptop set on a small table in one corner, the antelope laid the pictures on the much larger table she and her dancers were sitting around. “Cover suggestions. Thoughts?”

The four tigers leaned in, silently studying the topmost image, a light sketch of Gazelle walking away from the camera to the right, and a set of shackles that lay on the floor in the middle foreground, dominating the composition. To the left sat her name and the title, Unfettered, in a simple, elegant font.

“The _idea's_ decent,” Geraldo noted, “but...”

“But _Elle_ should be the focus, not the fetters,” Alfredo added. “Maybe she's walking towards the camera with them forgotten behind her?”

“Could work,” Alberto agreed, Raymondo nodding along.

The second cover idea was a hugely dramatic, shoulders-up painting of the antelope with her paws just above her head, explosively pulling apart the shackles that bound them and screaming as she did so. The title blazed in garish letters amidst the metallic carnage.

Four brows rose.

“Maybe if this was a heavy metal album,” Ray ventured.

“Can you imagine that?” Bert snorted a laugh. “A metal Elle?”

The antelope herself chuckled. “Maybe for a costume party.”

The third, loosely sketched image showed Gazelle floating a short way off the ground, her arms spread and her head tilted back in an almost beatific posture. Shackles lay, small and ignored, beneath her, and the title hung between them and her peacefully dangling feet.

“You know,” Fred commented, “I actually quite like this one.”

“Got the right kind of feel,” Ral agreed. “Definitely the best one yet.”

Number four was an abstract mosaic of bits of Gazelle's face and bits of shackles, with no pattern or logic anyone could find and the artist's name and the title crammed in at the edges; it was put aside without comment. Fifth and last was a backlit scene of a nude, almost entirely silhouetted Gazelle in a coy and sensual kneeling pose, her figure a lot more pronounced in a few areas, and one outstretched paw releasing a set of shackles; the title glimmered teasingly in red.

All four tigers groaned, paws rubbing temples.

“Is this the fourth or the fifth time the label's tried to sex you up?” A weary Bert wondered.

“Fifth,” Gazelle replied. “I'll admit, this is one of their more restrained efforts, and you all know I'm not averse to a little sensuality, but...”

“But it has to be on _your_ terms,” Ray finished for her.

“Exactly. It has to be _real_.” She took a quiet, settling breath. “So...are there any ideas here you _all_ think would work for this album?”

There was a long pause, then four heads slowly shook.

“The closest is the floating one,” Fred told her, “but even that doesn't quite seem...” He trailed off, searching for the word.

“Enough,” Ral supplied. “It's not enough.”

Nods came from the other tigers.

Gazelle straightened up a little, nodding as well. “Agreed. This album needs something more.” She flashed a coy smile. “I _believe_ I've an idea what..._but_...”

The tigers exchanged looks.

Fred spoke up. “You don't think the record company's gonna like it.”

“No.” The smile turned impish. “I think they'll hate it.”

The tigers leaned forward, ears perking.

“Go on,” Ray prompted, with the beginnings of a grin.

Gazelle selected the floating image and the sensual one, setting them before her. “I suggest we take the floating idea, and add one particular element from the glamour idea. That way, I will be _truly_ unfettered.”

A thrill of excitement ran through the big cats.

“That'd do it!” Ral agreed, enthusiastically.

“Work a treat!” Bert concurred.

“It's just a pity,” Ral sighed.

“That the label will never allow it,” Ray concluded.

“I know.” Gazelle chuckled dryly. “Ironic, in a way. I think we can still make it work, though...if we're clever. They _have_ set a precedent, after all. Imagine, for example, that pose from the back, and the hips up.”

Ral left the table for a second, returning with a pencil. He flipped one of the rejected designs over and roughly sketched an outline of a cover with Gazelle posed as she was in the floating image on the left, if a lot closer in, her flank brushing the edge, a hint of her tail at the bottom, and her right arm stretched fully across the space, shackles falling from her paw. Her name he wrote above her limb, the album title below it.

He slid it across to the antelope. “Something like that?”

“Yes, yes!” She beamed, nodding. “That's it!”

“Or _maybe_...” Ral was on a roll. Turning over another reject he drew out a variant of the first with Gazelle centrally positioned, a gracefully symmetrical image, the text on her back, half a set of shackles falling from her left arm, half from her right. It too was slid over.

“Ooh!” The antelope's eyes shone. “Bonito! Either one would do the job beautifully.”

“Do you want it to have a backdrop?” Fred asked. “Because I think I know just the place.”

Gazelle gave a nod. “Where?”

“A stretch of beach across the lake to the north-west, just above the Marshlands. It's open access but no-one's ever there; it's untouched and secluded, the sands are soft and gold, and you get stunning views of the sunrise over Zootopia.”

Gazelle beamed, clapping her delight. “Maravilloso! That's _ideal_!”

“If we can get there unnoticed,” Bert cautioned.

“We'll manage it, don't you worry!” the antelope assured him. “Ray, I want you to take the photographs.”

“I'd be delighted,” he grinned. “When are we going to do this?”

Gazelle cogitated a moment. “This Saturday. We'll make a trip of it, I think; get there ready for the sunrise, then stay as long as we want.”

That drew a host of enthused nods and grins.

“Beach party!” Ral laughed.

“Well, a beach chill out, at least,” Gazelle chuckled. “I'll bring Juliana, and Nia...” She looked to her assistant. “I'll ask even though I'm pretty sure of the answer – do you want to join us?”

“Definitely,” the coyote responded, with a firm nod.

The antelope blinked, her head cocking to one side. “Is everything all right, cielo?”

The canine's ears dipped a fraction as she faintly shook her head, her eyes and voice wavering ever-so-slightly. “No.”

Gazelle's expression softened with sympathy. “If you ever want to talk about it...”

“Thank you.” A smile briefly surfaced. “Maybe if we get a moment to ourselves at the beach.”

“We will, one way or another,” the antelope promised. “You're a part of our strange little family, whether you want to be or not.”

Nia blushed. “Thank you. What's the plan for getting there?”

“Be at the dance studio by six Saturday morning,” Gazelle instructed, a faintly roguish smile curving her muzzle. “And I'll take care of the rest from there. Geraldo, bring your makeup kit; everyone bring costumes, whatever drinks and snacks you feel like, towels, and anything else you think necessary.” Her smile grew, and her eyes shone. “We'll make this an album to remember.”


	2. The Photoshoot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A flash of darkness in this one; Cassandra Garanuug is not a nice mammal.

Shortly before six o'clock on Saturday morning, in the quietest part of Savannah Central, a tiger with a small pack on his back padded along a sparsely-lit street to a nondescript building. He was relieved to find it as quiet as usual, bar a large mammal size grey hire van parked outside it. After a careful look around, he slipped through the door.

Inside Ray found the three other tigers, all sporting the same kind of bright, summery shorts and shirts as him, were waiting, along with Nia in loose slacks and blouse, Juliana in snug shorts and halter top in pale yellow, white grasses rippling across them, and Elle. An assortment of bags and a large cooler were piled up next to the group.

The antelope, clad in a sleek, silvery-blue, sleeveless and knee-length summer dress, and not wearing her hair tuft or make-up, hugged him and kissed his cheek. “Did anyone follow you?”

Ray shook his head. “You?”

Elle cracked a grin. “No; they're far too busy chasing a lookalike across the city. We should be free and clear.”

Ray grinned back as he greeted the others. “Which one?”

“Ash. She...” The antelope grimaced. “_He_ will be enjoying a full day of pampering at a luxury spa; after all he's been through transitioning I'd say he deserves it.” She clapped her paws. “_We_ need to get moving, or we might not get there before sunrise. Julie, you're in front with me, everyone else tuck yourselves in the back.”

“You're driving?” Geraldo was dubious.

“Hiding in plain sight.” Elle slung a pack over her shoulder, an impish tinge to her smile. “No-one will ever suspect.”

Ral sighed. “If you're sure...”

“I'm sure.” The antelope patted his shoulder, then moved to the door and eased it open. “All clear.”

The baggage was quickly loaded into the back of the van, then tigers and coyote occupied the troop-carrier-style seats running along either side. Elle settled her daughter into the passenger seat, herself behind the wheel, flicked on the radio, then turned the key in the ignition. A few splutters, then the engine caught, settling into a rumbling rhythm, and she pulled away, driving steadily.

For the first few minutes she hardly saw another vehicle. Even when she reached the larger streets the traffic was light, meaning she made good progress across Savannah Central, and allowed herself to relax a little. When a red small mammal car with tinted windows appeared in her mirror she didn't think much of it, but after several more minutes and four turns had passed and it was still there, tension crept in.

Then it was gone. Elle didn't see it go, it just vanished between looks in the mirror. She kept a wary eye out the rest of the way to the ferry, and while boarding, but the car didn't reappear. She passed half of the crossing to the Marshlands wondering about it, then finally decided it wasn't worth the stress, and spent the rest of the voyage going over all she had planned for the beach.

Disembarking, the antelope followed a coastal road curving north and east, until all traces of civilisation beyond the city glittering across the bay had faded away. Low ridges rose up on either side, and Elle began to look for an opening in the right-paw one. When she finally found it, she turned onto the gravel track that ran through it.

On the other side of the rise the trail ended in a roughly circular area of sandy dirt. Fine, tufted grass surrounded it, sweeping off to left and right, while ahead lay a pristine strip of golden beach. It was deserted, and silent except for the rustle of the tide and the first stirrings of the dawn chorus, and in the faint beginnings of sunrise there was almost something magical about it.

Elle grinned and laughed, eyes shining, then she and Julie sprang out of the van and rushed to open the back doors.

“Whoa...” Ray breathed, looking around. “This is _beautiful_...”

“And it really _is_ empty.” Ral patted Fred's shoulder. “Well found!”

Fred beamed, unable to help looking a little smug. “Saw it on Zoogle Maps, decided to ride out here and look, and found a peaceful little bit of paradise. No idea why no-one comes here, but if it means we have our own private beach for a day...”

“Maybe it's haunted!” Julie suggested, mischievously, as she helped unload the bags.

Elle ruffled her daughter's ears affectionately. “It's certainly a fitting place for a ghost to linger. Hopefully any that do are friendly. You go help the others set up while Ral helps me with my make-up, okay?”

“Okay!” Juliana rose on tiptoes to share a quick press of muzzles with her mother, then grabbed a pack and skipped away.

Elle watched her go. “Ah, mi dulce niña.” Then she extracted a mirror and a modest make-up kit from another bag, and took off her clothes, laying them in the van. “Cover my flank lines, Ral, while I do my face.”

“All right.” The tiger found his own, larger kit, knelt down, and set to carefully painting over the antelope's black side streaks.

Elle finished her make-up just before Ral switched from her left flank to her right one; she waited patiently, watching the others setting up a large parasol, several beach towels and a stills camera on an adjustable tripod, until he was done, then both of them attached the long curl of blonde hair to her scalp fur.

Gazelle looked herself over in the mirror, and grinned. “Perfecta!”

The kits were packed away, the antelope collected her clothing, then she and Ral crossed the grass to join the others on the sand. Light was starting to swell behind the city, delicate trickles of it spilling between the buildings, so Gazelle had time to take a drink from the cooler, swig several gulps, have a quick word with everyone, then discuss the plan for the first photo with Ray.

When the sun climbed above Zootopia, and waves of radiant oranges and golds were washing the darker hues from the sky, Gazelle stepped forwards, a set of prop pawcuffs in one hand. Setting herself between the city shimmering in the sunrise and Ray's camera, facing away from him, she stretched her arms out to either side, tilted her head to the sky and, on cue, let the cuffs fall from her right paw.

This was repeated three times more, then the antelope shifted to the right until she was in the centre of frame. She split the cuffs, and with a bit of effort was able to balance the halves on the wrists of her arms as she spread them wide again. At Ray's signal she simply twisted her forearms back, and the cuffs slipped off.

After a couple of repeat performances, he called out to her. “Do you want to get some full-body shots? I think we've enough sunrise left.”

Gazelle nodded. “Front and back.”

She set the fetters on the ground, partially burying them in the sand, then stood astride them with arms once more outstretched and head right back, facing the city. After Ray had taken three pictures, she spun on the spot; wanting to watch what he did, she didn't tilt her head as far back; a smile spread at his intense concentration.

He froze suddenly, eyes widening, then hastened to adjust the tripod and angle the camera, before taking five shots in rapid succession. The tiger then stood back a little, an incredulous smile filling his face, and a giddy chuckle escaping his lips. Gazelle cocked her head, and stepped toward him, but he snatched the card from his camera and darted off before she could say anything.

She followed him to the beach towels; he dropped onto one, slipped his laptop from a bag, and powered it on. Gazelle sat next to him, and the others quickly gathered round, all keen to see what had gotten Ray so excited. He clicked the card into the relevant slot, and a second or so later a window of photo thumbnails appeared.

There were several sharp intakes of breath at the sight of the last few, but he double-clicked on the first. It filled the screen, and was greeted with appreciative murmurs, from Geraldo especially.

“That's just how I drew it!” he beamed. “Except better.”

The next two were almost identical, though one wasn't quite aligned properly and the other was slightly out of focus. All three of the more central shots were well-framed and sharp, with the exception of blurry fetters in the second. The trio of full-body images with Gazelle facing away from the camera, unfortunately, were all indistinct to one degree or another, drawing mutters from Ray.

He hesitated, finger hovering just over the arrow key, taking a breath, then clicked on...and groaned. The first of the photos with the subject facing the camera was the blurriest yet. The second was in focus, but nothing was aligned quite right. The third, though, had him clamping a paw to his muzzle, eyes moistening, while gasps rose around him.

The sun perfectly framed Gazelle's warmly smiling face, the sky softly gold shading to blue. The waters were a deeper, shimmering blue, and the sand a paler, drifting gold washing over the fetters lying forgotten between the antelope's feet. The shining, vibrant expanse of Zootopia seemed to be resting on her widespread arms, and a glow suffused the outlines of her body.

Nia was the first to find her voice. “That's...that's _beautiful_...”

“Can't believe it,” Fred breathed, slowly shaking his head.

“You're not alone!” Ray laughed. “I saw the possibility for something nice, but...I never imagined it would look _this_ good...”

“Asombrosa!” Gazelle kissed the side of his muzzle hard, eyes shining, and clapped her paws delightedly. “We _have_ to use this!”

“But we _can't_.” Bert was growling with frustration. “The label will fire the lot of us if we even try.”

The antelope frowned. “True, but...” Resolved filtered in. “I'd regret it if I _didn't_ try. In fact, I want to go further. More pictures.”

“Ones that reflect the songs?” Ral surmised.

“Exactly. I have a few ideas. A couple will need tigers, another Nia, if you're willing, and maybe even one or two with Juliana, if there's any spare hair in your kit, Ral.”

“I think I can rustle some up.” Geraldo started for the van.

“Hair?” Julie asked, agog with curiosity, then gasped. “You mean...?”

Gazelle nodded. “If you're up for it, querido.”

Her daughter's head bobbed enthusiastically. Laughing, the antelope kissed them between the eyes. “Wait for Ral, then.” She looked to Nia, the coyote appearing a little distant, a range of quiet emotions playing across their face. “If you're not comfortable with it, Nia,” she started to reassure, but they held up a paw.

“I'll do it.” Nia stood up, slowly and smoothly removed all her clothes, piled them on the towel, then took a long breath, the wind rustling her fur. A smile began to bloom. “It might even help.”

Gazelle squeezed her paw. “We'll leave yours to last; give you time to adjust. Ray...?”

The tiger retrieved the card, then shut the lid of his laptop, sending it into a standby mode, and set it aside. “Ready when you are.”

He, Fred and Bert undressed, then followed the antelope back to the camera. After a brief discussion Ray got behind the lens, replacing the card, the other two tigers stood close by, and Gazelle settled down in a cross-legged position. She folded her paws tidily in her lap and closed her eyes, adopting a relaxed, meditative posture.

Ray shortened the tripod, then moved around her, taking pictures in brief bursts from several angles, Bert and Fred carefully keeping out of frame. The antelope didn't move once he was done, though, content to simply watch as Alfredo and Alberto came together, arms encircling hips lightly, foreheads and noses touching, eyes closed, and Ray set to photographing them, again from a number of positions.

Once he was done Gazelle stood, and beckoned Fred. Together they waded far enough into the water for it to be circling their midriffs; the antelope lay back like she was floating, arms and legs casually spread, while the tiger knelt down and supported her shoulders and rear; at a signal from Ray he took a deep breath and ducked his head under the water, only surfacing again when Gazelle's paw nudged his shoulder.

As they waded out, a gleeful shout had the antelope's head twisting round, to see a miniature, just as nude version of herself running her way, smiling fit to burst; Ral trailed in the child's wake, laughing.

Juliana flung herself into her mother's arms. “Lookit! I'm glam'rous!”

Gazelle chuckled, hugging her daughter, kissing her scalp, then easing her back to properly take her in. “Yes, yes you are!”

“Like mother, like daughter!” Ray called over. “Want her to go next, or after you and Ral?”

“Well, Ral doesn't seem to be in any real hur...” Gazelle trailed off, her head tilting. “Is that...?”

Three striped heads turned to follow her gaze; far behind the fourth tiger a small, grey face topped by a tall pair of ears was peering round the side of their van. Even from such a distance they could see its eyes widen dramatically, then a paw hit the forehead, then the forehead hit the side of the vehicle. After a moment the whole figure stepped into view, a compact bunny in a blue uniform, talking into a radio with their shoulders slumped.

“Officer Hopps.” Gazelle let out a sigh of relief that soon turned into a laugh; she sat cross-legged once more, Julie cuddled in her lap. “And, I suspect...” A red figure, also clad in blue, jogged up the track to join the rabbit. “Officer Wilde.”

“Wonder why they're here?” Ray scratched his muzzle.

“You're not worried about them spying on us?” Alfredo asked.

Gazelle shook her head, watching the two small mammals approach at a light run. “No; I'm confident they had good reason, and if we can't trust _them_, well...”

“It's the reason that worries _me_.” Bert frowned.

Ral soon joined them, Nick and Judy close behind, and a part-curious, part-self-conscious Nia trailing in last.

The rabbit fixed chastened eyes on the antelope, ears low. “I'm sorry for spying, but...” She hesitated.

“Cassandra Garanuug was released from jail yesterday,” Nick, his eyes shaded by his aviators, his posture more settled, explained.

“What?!” Gazelle husked. “But I thought...”

“One of Bellwether's last acts as mayor was to grant her early parole, on grounds of 'good behaviour'.” The fox's tone was acid.

“So, all things considered, the Chief decided it best to keep a discreet eye on you.” Judy sighed. “Fine job I did of _that_...”

“How'd you even find us?” Fred wanted to know.

“Ben told us you'd be heading out early today,” Nick explained, “but didn't know where to, beyond a beach. So, we got to your house even earlier and waited until you left.” A small smirk surfaced. “Clever trick with the lookalike, by the way; seen it used before, but never so well.”

“Thank you.” Gazelle smiled, then her ears snapped vertical. “Ash! Is he all right?”

“Being watched over by Fangmeyer and Wolford,” Judy assured her.

“Good, good.” The antelope breathed in relief. “If anything happened to him...” A light of realisation flashed in her eyes. “Wait – you were in the red car with the blacked-out windows, weren't you?”

Nick nodded. “Had to get close to keep in touch on the busier roads.”

“When we realised you were heading for the ferry,” Judy added, “Nick deduced the beach you were likely heading to...”

“I know everyone, _and_ everywhere.” The fox's smirk grew.

An elbow dug sharply into his side. “_So_, we took a chance to get some breakfast, then caught the next ferry.”

“Why always the _same_ rib?!” Nick groused, rubbing his flank. “When we found you we were _supposed_ to just wait out on the road, but Little Miss Nosy-fluff here just _had_ to look.”

“I-I wanted to be _sure_ you were all right,” Judy defended herself; then her eyes fell again. “A-and I just _had_ to know if it really _was_ you at the Oasis, and if you really had...”

“A daughter.” Smiling softly, Gazelle coaxed a shy Julie to lift their face from her chest. “This is Juliana, my pride and joy.”

“_Knew it_!” Judy whooped, then clapped a paw over her mouth.

“I must admit, Carrots – you were right.” Nick's smirk softened. “And pleased to meet you, Miss Juliana. You're as lovely as your mother.”

The fawn giggled, ears colouring, and Gazelle beamed.

“What made you think it was me?” she enquired.

“Oh, just something about you; _and_ you let a little Spanish slip when the dart hit Ben.” Judy held up her paw in a manner that bordered on the solemn. “I promise we will never reveal your secret to anyone, not even the Chief, without your permission.”

“On pain of really bad fur days,” Wilde appended. He dipped his head in a polite bow. “I think we've taken up enough of your time, so...”

“Actually, I'd like you to stay,” Gazelle insisted. “Easier to keep an eye on us that way, don't you think?”

Judy's eyes shone. “You're sure?”

The antelope nodded. “I can hardly leave you in your car all day, and I for one would feel much safer with such capable officers around.”

“Judy _was_ almost hammering a hole in the foot-well already.” The fox noted with a grin. “I'll bring it in.” He turned to leave, then paused. “By the way, is the dress code mandatory?”

“Not unless you want it to be.”

“Think about it, Carrots.” Nick threw a playful look at Judy, then left.

Judy visibly did, for some moments, then with a firm bob of the head began smoothly undressing.

“Excuse me,” Nia piped up, tentatively, “but who's Cassandra?”

Gazelle's face darkened; she passed Julie to Ray, asked them to take a few photos, and once they'd gone began to explain. “A gerenuk, who started out in the industry around the same time I did. We were very much alike in style, except I was the better singer and she the better dancer, and she was definitely more glamorous. Something of a rivalry grew, and the labels naturally stoked it up as best they could.

“I admit I got a little swept up in it, and said a few less than pleasant things, and did take some satisfaction in getting a hit album when she didn't, but I don't believe for a moment it justified what she did. There was always something about her that verged on cruel – you could hear it in her songs and see it in her videos – but I thought it part of her act, her persona. It wasn't.

“The higher my album got up the charts, while hers didn't even enter them, the nastier and angrier she became. Then it broke the top ten, and she began accusing me of sabotaging _her_ record, insisting she had evidence, but never producing any. The media soon tired of her, and I got lost in celebrating my success and forgot about her.

“And then my assistant, a lovely young male pampas cat, vanished on a night out. Three days later I got a letter, containing one of his claws, pulled out at the roots, and a message from Cassandra threatening to pull another claw for every day I didn't admit what I'd done, and when she ran out of claws, she'd start cutting things.

“Thankfully, she was careless enough for the police to find her within a week, but my assistant still lost all the claws of one paw, and, eleven years later, is only just beginning to feel like himself again. Cassandra was sentenced to twenty-five years in prison on a charge of aggravated kidnapping, and I _thought_ it was over. Now she's free, though...”

“How did Bellwether swing that?” Bert wanted to know.

“You're talking about someone who had most of the city at war with itself.” Judy was now nude and sitting with her knees to the side. “A bit of red tape was nothing in comparison, especially when the governor of the prison was a good friend. Unfortunately, she left everything in such a state no-one realised what she'd done until it was too late.”

“Well,” Nia ventured, “maybe Cassandra changed in prison...”

Judy shook her head sadly. “You'd hope so, but no. She left behind a diary that _seemed_ innocuous, until someone realised the same phrase was encoded into every page – 'finish her'.”

“So, if anything, she's gotten worse.” Gazelle's eyes drifted to Juliana, who was running gleefully along the surf, Ray rapidly taking photos of them. “If she ever discovered I have a daughter...” The antelope gave a heavy shudder, and hugged herself.

“She'd have to get through us,” Bert vowed, the other tigers nodding.

“And us,” a returning, and cheerfully unclad bar his sunglasses, Wilde added; Judy bobbed her head firmly.

Gazelle favoured them all with a grateful smile, much of the tension ebbing from her frame. “Thank you.” She sighed, then gracefully rose to her feet. “Lets focus on pleasanter things for a while.”

While she strolled toward Juliana and Raymondo, Nick sat down with Judy, fox and rabbit sharing a brief press of muzzles before falling into conversation with Bert, Ral, Fred and Nia. Daughter spotted mother, and in a few seconds was leaping into her arms. Gazelle supported her wet, sand-streaked child's rear with one paw, cradled their shoulders with the other, and they kissed and nuzzled, then entwined their long necks, cheeks resting together.

Their reverie was broken by the sound of a tiger tripping over a tripod and biting back a curse. The antelopes fixed amused gazes on a guilty Ray, awkwardly posed with one foot snagged on the leg of the frame.

“Sorry.” He grinned contritely. “But I couldn't resist!”

Mother and daughter exchanged thoughtful looks tinted with a little mischief, then Gazelle spoke up. “We'll let you take a picture, but with one condition.”

Ray swallowed. “I'm going to regret this, aren't I?”

“You're going to step in _front_ of your camera, for once.”

“I am?” Ray blinked. “Who'll be behind it?”

Gazelle called to the others. “Can any of you use a camera?”

Judy stuck up her paw. “I've taken a few family photos.”

“Miiight have a little trouble reaching, though, Fluff,” Nick teased.

The rabbit grinned wide. “Then it's fortunate I have a foxy stepladder handy, isn't it?”

Vulpine ears splayed. “You're lucky I love you, Hopps.”

Judy smiled serenely. “Yes; yes, I am. Come on!”

Gazelle and Juliana held their embrace long enough for Ray to take a trio of photos, then the cub kissed her mother's muzzle and reluctantly slid from their arms to wait a short distance away. The elder antelope stared fondly at the younger for a moment, watched as Ray adjusted the tripod and showed the camera's important buttons to Judy, then with a smile beckoned the tiger over.

At Gazelle's direction he knelt down before her and rested the side of his face on her belly, paws lightly cradling her hips, while she laid one hand on his head and the other on his cheek. Peaceful smiles, aided by the sight of a bunny climbing up to sit on the shoulders of a mildly put-out fox, legs trailing down his chest, warmed their faces.

Though the camera was very nearly as big as she was, and she had to use her whole paw to press buttons the tiger could with a finger, Judy managed it well enough. She took one set of pictures, then zoomed in for another, before giving Gazelle and Ray two thumbs-up and a toothy grin. Nick just rolled his eyes, though his expression was affectionate.

The tiger returned to his camera, the fox stepping aside, and the gaze of the rabbit settling on a still subdued Julie. Casting around the beach gave Judy an idea.

“Juliana?” she called out. “Want to go beachcombing? There's plenty of weed washed up to rummage in. Never know what you'll find.”

The cub lit up, nodding vigorously, and bounding over to them. “Can I please, please, _please_ carry you?” she asked.

“Why?” Judy wondered, mildly bemused.

“Cause it looks like fun!” Julie proclaimed.

The bunny looked to Gazelle, who smiled and nodded consent. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

“Yay!” The cub flung her paws up in delight, then reached over to grip Judy's waist, lifting them off Nick's shoulders and placing them on her own; she then lightly took hold of grey thighs. “Ready?”

A now amused Judy's paws looped around the child's slender neck to rest on the top of their chest, and her chin settled between their ears, her own perked. “Coming, Slick?” she asked Nick.

“Just need to check in with base, then I'll be right with you,” Nick told her, more than a little warmth in his smile. “You're doing well, Fluff.”

Judy laughed. “She makes it easy.” She pointed dramatically down the beach. “Onwards!”

Julie surged away, Nick strolled to collect the bunny's things then off to the towels, and Gazelle took it all in with a beaming grin.

“Going rather well, wouldn't you say?” Nia noted, joining her.

“Indeed!” The antelope sighed contentedly. “Ready for your turn, my lovely assistant? Fair warning, this will be...particularly intimate.”

“Ah. This is for _Night Music_, isn't it?” A flicker of anxiety passed over her face, then she gave a single, firm nod. “I'm in.”

Guided by Gazelle, Nia embraced the taller mammal from behind, her muzzle brushing the lower reaches of their neck, her left paw stroking the centre of their chest, her right their lower stomach. The antelope, watching the coyote all the while, slid the latter further south, until the tips of the fingers were tucked between the tops of her thighs. Lastly, she stretched her arms back to lay her paws on their hips.

She felt Nia's body tense slightly in response, but said nothing, simply waited until it relaxed against her, settling just a little closer. She tilted and twisted her head to smile down at the coyote, who lifted theirs in response, until their noses were a whisker from touching. Two pairs of eyes locked for a long moment, then closed as muzzles softly met.

A polite clearing of the throat soon parted them again, Ray's pictures successfully taken, but Nia seemed in no hurry to release the embrace, her head settling against Gazelle's neck. The antelope looked around, noting her daughter crouched over a big bundle of seaweed, Judy still perched on their shoulders; Nick was ambling in their direction, while the other three tigers were relaxing on the towels, taking refreshments from the cooler. Far across the water a boat seemed, for an instant, to be heading their way, but quickly turned and faded from view.

Gazelle's attention turned to Raymondo. “I think that'll do for photos today. I know there's one more song, but nothing comes to mind that works for it. We'll have to think on it a while longer.”

“All right.” Ray picked up camera and tripod. “Just a suggestion, but if you still want a moment alone, now might be it.”

“I was thinking that,” Gazelle agreed. “Nia?”

“All right.” The coyote drew back just enough to end the embrace.

The antelope caught her paw, and while Ray moved to join the other tigers the two females walked up the rise of the beach to the edge of the grass, where a cluster of boulders, rounded by time and tide, lay in peaceful repose. They sat on a rock apiece facing each other, Gazelle's lower than Nia's, so their eyes were level, and close enough for noses, if they so wished, to brush.

The antelope was content to simply rest her paws on the flanks of the coyote, but the canine's drifted over her chest, belly, sides, hips, thighs and neck, gently exploring them, and smoothing the coat that covered them. Nia's eyes glistened more the longer Gazelle didn't react, stayed peaceful and perfectly trusting.

“This may sound strange,” the coyote eventually began, her tone soft as her touch, “but I've wanted to do this, to groom with a partner, ever since I saw my aunt grooming with hers. I truly believed, about a year and a half ago, I'd found that partner, a charming impala who moved into the apartment across from mine.

“She was clever, she was funny, she loved jazz music and she seemed to like me. True, there was always something...distant about her, but I simply took it as her being cautious, taking her time to trust. I thought all I had to do was be patient, keep spending time with her, and sooner or later she'd give to me as openly and willingly as I gave to her.

“But she didn't. The reserve didn't fade. And then...then the first of the night-howler attacks happened, and suddenly she wanted nothing more to do with me. She locked her door to me, didn't answer any of my calls, actively avoided me. Finally, after the sixth attack, I managed to pin her down, in the corridor between our apartments, and...

“And she said I was a filthy, murderous pred and she never wanted to see me again. A week later...she was gone.” Tears were stinging Nia's eyes, and her voice was shaking slightly. She paused to collect herself, then continued. “A little while after the attacks ended, and Bellwether was caught, I decided to try and track her down. Maybe...maybe she'd just been scared, and not thinking clearly. The day before our meeting about the covers I found her Furbook profile, and messaged her. She called me a monster, and blocked me.”

The coyote fell silent, her eyes closing, damp trails running down her cheeks, head sinking.

Gazelle drew them in, held them tenderly. “For what it's worth,” she whispered, “and if it wasn't already obvious, I _love_ grooming, and I'd not hesitate to groom with you.”

Nia lifted her muzzle, a smile beginning to bloom. “You really _are_ an angel with horns.”

The antelope laughed, long and rich, then gently shook her head. “I'm just trying to do right by those who matter to me.” She got to her feet, and offered the coyote a paw. “Let's join the others, and enjoy the rest of our day, hmm?”

Nodding, Nia rose; an arm draped round each other's hips they made their way along the beach to the towels. Not long after they'd settled on one, lying with the antelope cradling the coyote from behind, Julie bounced up, grinning massively, as was the rabbit still perched on her shoulders, now carrying an armful of assorted shells.

“Lookit!” the cub whooped. “Lookit all the pretty shells!”

“You've done so well, cariño,” her mother smiled. “Why don't you get a little rest, awhile?”

“Yes, Mama.” Juliana knelt down, letting Judy slip from her shoulders to place the shells on the sand, but then gathering the bunny in close, curling around them on the towel next to her mother's. Judy blinked, nonplussed, then chuckled, sighed, and nestled in contentedly. Nick's face when he sauntered up a moment later, a blend of surprise, mirth and deep affection was almost worthy of a photo itself.

Sitting close against the already slumbering cub's back he leaned over to kiss the bridge of the bunny's muzzle. “I think she likes you, Fluff!”

“She's a good judge of character,” Gazelle told him, smiling. “And you two really seem to have a way with children. Might I suggest, as a long term possibility, adopting one or two?”

“You know,” Nick admitted, “we did briefly float the idea. As you say, though, it's long term. Right now, we're just happily figuring out what our relationship is, exactly. Speaking of...?”

“Ah.” The antelope chuckled lightly. “You're wondering about ours?”

“Yes. Would polyamorous be the right word?”

“It's as good as any. I don't really know why, but I just can't keep my affections to only one person.” Her smile turned wry. “Just one more of my many and varied quirks.”

“You know, I'm starting to understand why Ben and Judy admire you so much.”

“Oh?”

“You absolutely _refuse_ to be anything other than yourself.”

“Of course. Only way to live.”

“How far will you go for that, I wonder?”

Gazelle's eyes went briefly distant, then she smirked in a fashion that wouldn't have shamed Nick. “I've a feeling we'll see soon enough.”


	3. The Long Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It never rains, but it pours. Moderate scene of sexual intimacy at the start, and heavy themes recur throughout.

The curtains were drawn against an inclement night. Languid acoustic guitar played gently in the background. The only light in the room was a pale, warm one directly over the generous bed. Gazelle's nude form was a silhouette, curves outlined by a soft shine, as she walked toward the latter, her strong hips swaying in enticing counterpoint to her tail.

An equally nude Alberto followed her, mesmerised by the antelope, a familiar blend of nervousness and excitement tingling in his gut, made worse by the knowledge that something was troubling her. The smile she gave him over her shoulder on reaching the bed was as alluring as ever, a sight that sent a shiver down his spine, but there was a trace of distance in her eyes.

Bert closed that between her and him quickly, determined to banish her disquiet, at least for a little while. His paws caressed her form, and his muzzle nuzzled her neck; she sighed, rolled briefly back against him and slid her snout languorously along his cheek; then she latched onto him, drew him down to the sheets, and opened herself up to him.

He covered her, cradled her, treasured her, then melded deeply with her, and rocked and swayed and danced with her. Heat built steadily, heavy and keen, with each fluid, achingly intimate flex of their bodies, until finally it flared so hot it threatened to overwhelm them. Flushed and panting faces nestled close, eyes sparkling.

“You're first tonight, querido,” Gazelle insisted in a murmur, her voice thick, husky, and playfully determined.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Alberto whispered back, hand kneading that one spot on her lower flank he knew sent a shiver right through her at moments like this.

It certainly did now, her eyes closing and a particularly keen quaver of a moan rising from her, and he thought, just for a second, he'd tipped her over the edge. She held it off, though, then her eyes opened, her teeth gritted under a resolute smile, and her fingers encircled the base of his tail. A caressing squeeze, with one to match where they joined, and with a shudder and a groan that was almost as much frustration as pleasure, Bert peaked.

His eyes screwed shut, his fingers tightened against her fur and skin, his spine arched so taut it almost hurt and he let free a long blend of moan, mewl and sob. Then it was over, and he had to fight not to sink onto her, keeping himself propped up with one paw so he could watch as, after one last roll of his fingers over her flank, the antelope peaked as well, body quivering as it pressed hard up into his, arms clinging to him, eyes rolled up completely, long neck and head thrown right back as a croon that was music to his ears rose from her gaping mouth.

Then she sagged, chest heaving, and he finally did too, a boneless pile of tiger spreading over a boneless sprawl of antelope. For some while they simply panted, and laughed, and softly nuzzled, then Bert slowly rolled over, holding onto Gazelle so she ended up lying on top of him, and studied her carefully.

“Either I'm losing my touch,” he noted, with a frown, “or something's _really_ bothering you.”

“Oh, you have _definitely_ not lost your touch,” she assured him, with a kiss. “That was as wonderful as ever. I just...have a lot on my mind.”

“Such as...?” he pressed.

“Ash. He should have called by now. It's probably nothing – phone's out of charge, maybe – but in the circumstances...” She sighed. “If he's not called in the next ten minutes, I'll call him.”

“Good plan.” Bert stroked her back. “But that's not all, is it?”

“No.” Gazelle's ears sagged. “I've...been thinking about Cassandra...”

The tiger's frown deepened. “Why?”

“Something came back to me. A vague recollection of a different her, one that wasn't cruel. So...” She reached for her phone, resting on the bedside table. “I did a little searching, and found the video for her first single.” She set it playing, phone propped up so the tiger could view it comfortably. “Tell me what you see.”

Alberto watched for a moment, his brow raising. “It's rough, but there _is_ art to it...and no sadism to be seen. She _wasn't_ always like that...”

“Her second video's pretty much the same. It's the third one where the cruelty first appears, and even then, it's brief, a flicker of what she, in her darkest moments, feels like doing to her faithless lover. It's just part of the story she's telling.” Gazelle played the moment. “It's not till the fourth video she starts including cruelty for its own sake.”

Bert's brow creased. “Serious jump in production value, here...”

“Makes you wonder, doesn't it?”

“She changed labels, didn't she?” A lump was starting to form in the tiger's gut.

The antelope nodded. “From what I can find out, Cassandra started at a small indie label, but her second single did just well enough to catch the attention of a bigger one, one that thought she had potential, and made her an offer she couldn't refuse. A label...called Ada.”

Bert grimaced. “Swirlhorn's label.”

“Exactly.”

“If even half the things I've heard about her are true...it puts a whole new texture on a lot of things...”

Gazelle's eyes grew darker. “I can tell you, from personal experience, _everything_ you've heard about Ada Swirlhorn is true.”

“You've met her?!” A pulse of alarm set Bert's neck bristling.

“At an awards ceremony. The first I ever attended. I wasn't up for an award myself, just wanted to experience it. I crossed paths with her a few times, and every time she made my fur crawl. She felt like a mine primed to go off at the slightest provocation, and had a gaze so intense it seemed to burn right through you.

“Towards the end of the evening, I was wandering around backstage, looking for someone. I passed by what I thought was a vacant dressing room, heard a pained cry, rushed in, and found Ada Swirlhorn standing over someone huddled in the corner. Before I could do or say anything Swirlhorn had spun and fired a gun, a _lethal_ gun, at me.

“Thankfully, her aim was wild, and it only clipped my horn.” Gazelle's fingers brushed a small chip in one of them. “But it was still more than enough to send me running, terrified.”

“I'll bet.” Alberto cradled the antelope protectively. “How in Zootopia did she get a _lethal_ gun? Even the _police_ barely have any.”

“What Ada Swirlhorn wants, Ada Swirlhorn gets.” Gazelle sat up, her hands resting on the tiger's chest, taking calming breaths. “Before you ask, I did try to tell my manager, but he told me in no uncertain terms to forget it ever happened.” Her head and ears dipped. “Far easier said than done, of course.”

Bert petted her flank. “Did you...see who Swirlhorn was...with?”

Gazelle shook her head. “Just a glimpse, a split second of blurs in my memory, of hooves and red and maybe a horn, but the more I think it over, the more I'm convinced it was Cassandra. She was at the awards, up for one herself, wearing a lovely red dress, but she didn't win, and well, Ada Swirlhorn _hates_ to lose.”

“Do you think,” the tiger asked, picking his words carefully, “the cruel aspects to Cassandra's work were Swirlhorn's idea, or Cassandra using the only means she had to express herself?”

“Most likely? Both. That third video was easily her most popular, and I can well imagine Swirlhorn taking the wrong lesson from it, pressing for more cruelty, and Cassandra using it as an outlet. It's not like she had any others, after all. I...I can't imagine what it must have been like to be used and abused by someone who seems utterly untouchable.”

“But she wasn't, was she?” Alberto observed, grimly. “Someone put a bullet in her, most likely from her own gun.”

Gazelle's head lilted. “Are you suggesting it was Cassandra?”

“You can't deny it's a possibility. If you're thinking...”

“I have to try.” The antelope insisted. “She deserves a chance.”

“I don't think she'll take it. She's too far gone. You could get hurt, or worse.”

“I know.” Gazelle brushed his cheek. “But I ran before, and I refuse to again. I'm guilty enough, already.” Holding up a paw to forestall reply from the tiger, she dialled a number on her phone, then lifted it to her ear. “Ash,” she explained, simply.

Worry furrowed her brow deeper and deeper as the ringing went on with no answer, but finally, it clicked live. _“Ms Gazelle?”_

“You're not Ash.” Chills started to spread.

“_No, I'm Officer Fangmeyer. I'm afraid...we've lost Mr Tineland.”_

“Qué?! How?”

“_We're not sure. We got held up in traffic, lost sight of the limo for a fair while, and when we found it again it was parked in the entrance to your house, engine idling, doors open, the driver unconscious, and Mr Tineland gone.”_

“Madre de Dios!” Horror washed through the antelope.

“Cassandra,” Alberto growled, neck fur bristling.

“_That's the most likely culprit, yes. We think she ambushed the driver when they rolled down the window to activate the intercom.”_

With an effort, Gazelle drew herself together. “There's a camera that covers the entrance; that should show what happened.”

“_Good. I'll come get the footage, and I'll need to talk to you.”_

“We'll be waiting.”

Antelope and tiger left the bed, pulled on robes, and hastened down to the lobby. Barely a minute passed before a knock came at the door, and Bert opened it to admit a weary but determined tiger in uniform.

They bobbed their head respectfully. “Honour to meet you, Ma'am. I only wish the circumstances could be better.”

Gazelle ushered them inside. “So do we all. I hope you aren't blaming yourselves for this.”

Fangmeyer chuckled ruefully. “No, just our rotten luck. The footage?”

“This way.” Gazelle led them to her office, powering up her computer and loading the security program. She selected the relevant camera's feed, frowning at the sight of the limo. “What time?”

“Within the last ten minutes.”

The antelope started the archived footage playing. In silence the trio watched the dark limo draw smoothly up to the gate, then the driver's window roll down. At the same time a spotted arm began to reach out toward the intercom, a tall, horned figure in white lunged from behind a nearby bush, firing a tranq gun.

The driver's arm jerked, then slumped, then the figure, nervous, their head swivelling ceaselessly, reached into the car. Anxiety visibly rising, the figure wrenched open one of the rear doors, hauled out a terrified Ash Tineland, pressed the gun to his temple, and clumsily bundled him out of the camera's view.

The tigress activated her radio. “Fangmeyer to base.”

“_Report,”_ the strained but still sharp voice of Bogo responded, curtly.

“I can confirm it was Cassandra Garanuug. Thanks to Ms Gazelle we have CCTV proof. She took Mr Tineland away on foot.”

“_Understood. Wolford on the trail?”_

“Yes, sir. He'll locate, but not confront until I can join him.”

“_Good.”_ A tight sigh. _“I sorely wish I could spare backup, but the bank situation's still dragging on. Take every care.”_

“Of course, Chief. We'll see this through.”

“_I have full confidence.”_ He almost sounded warm. _“Is there anything else?”_

“We have Mr Tineland's phone. Ms Gazelle calling it helped me find where it had been thrown. No other physical traces, though.”

“_Also understood. Put Ms Gazelle on.”_

Fangmeyer handed the radio over.

“Yes, Chief Bogo?” the antelope prompted.

“_I wish to assure you that my officers will do all they can to rescue Mr Tineland and apprehend Ms Garanuug. I also wish to stress that this is not your fault. The blame here lies squarely with Ms Garanuug.”_

“I...don't believe that to be true. I have strong reason to believe she endured intense physical and emotional abuse for years, leading to her current unstable state, and...and that I could have stopped it.”

There was a long pause. _“Ms Gazelle...even if all you say is true, and it may well be, Ms Garanuug is still acting of her own volition. She's still making her own decisions, and must face the consequences.”_

“Of course, but...I want to talk to her. If there's _any_ chance...”

“_I would strongly caution against that. The sight of you might be all it takes to push her completely over the edge.”_

“Or...it could pull her back. At the very least, _please_ consider it.”

Another lengthy pause. _“All right. But, I'll be taking every precaution I deem necess...”_

A hammering at the front door, sharp and erratic, interrupted him. A glance ran about the room, then all present ran to answer it. Outside, they found a near-perfect duplicate of Gazelle, scared, huddled tightly into himself, but apparently unharmed. Fangmeyer rushed out to look around, while the real Gazelle drew the other antelope inside, and into an embrace.

“_What's going on?”_ Bogo demanded.

“Ash,” Gazelle replied. “He's safe. No sign of Cassandra, though.”

“_Did he get away?”_

“No,” Tineland himself responded, faintly. “She...she left me outside your door, then ran. She...she's scared. Panicking. Mad.”

“_Did she hurt you?”_

“No. It...looked like she might...even lunged a couple times...but she never actually touched me, except to pull me. When she realised I was a fake, she brought me here.”

“_Fangmeyer and Wolford?”_

“Just coming,” Gazelle reported. “Without Cassandra.”

A panting wolf and tiger joined them, the latter taking the radio. “I'm sorry, Chief, but she got away. Jumped in the river...”

Wolford activated his own radio. “Do you want us to follow the river's course to look for her?”

“_No; if she survives, she's unlikely to go anywhere fast, let alone be a threat to anybody else. Make sure Mr Tineland and Ms Gazelle are all right, then rest. We'll continue the search tomorrow.”_

“Yes, Chief. Out.” Fangmeyer heaved a sigh. “Ms Gazelle...”

“Ash can stay here the night,” the antelope assured her. “It's the least I can do.”

“All right. We'll need statements from all of you, as soon as you feel up to it. Keep everything locked, just in case, and unless you can think of anything else...”

“Nothing. Get that rest. You've earned it.”

Fangmeyer yawned. “These are the nights I'm grateful to have a mate who understands long shifts.”

“Still can't believe you landed _her_ of all people.” Wolford swayed his head in teasing disbelief. At a curious tilt of her head from Gazelle, he added, a lopsided grin growing, “you're not the only prominent person with a weakness for big, strong tigers.”

Gazelle's eyes widened, ears rising, while Fangmeyer clapped her paw to her face with a groan. “Dangit, Wolfy...” She grabbed his collar, and started pulling him away. “Let's go bury you under your cubs and mate before you bury your foot any further down your big, fat muzzle.” She bobbed her head again. “Goodnight, Ms Gazelle.”

“Goodnight.” The antelope waved, closed and locked her door, then a laugh broke free. “I think I like him.” She pressed a kiss to Ash's cheek, then released him, and sloughed her robe. “I'm so glad you're safe.”

The other antelope blushed, eyes wide. “You really don't have to...”

“I do.” Gazelle was firm. “Bert, escort Ash to a spare room, and if you have no objections, keep them company tonight.”

“None at all.” The tiger extended a paw.

Ash reddened further, disbelief clear on his face, then took the paw, and nodded fervent gratitude. “If there's any way I can repay you...”

“Just keep being you.” Gazelle waved them away.

“Don't sleep alone, yourself,” Bert called back.

“I won't,” Gazelle assured him. She rolled her shoulders, then turned to enter the office. She paused, staring at the frozen image of a ragged and wild-eyed Cassandra Garanuug, clad in just a short white shift, for quite some time, then shook her head, powered off the computer, and left, heading upstairs.

The first room she entered had glimmering stars and moons hanging from the ceiling, and a rich starscape mural covering one wall. A small form was tucked in the modest bed, fast asleep; she approached, knelt over them, stroked their cheek, kissed their brow, murmured love into their ear, then stood and silently exited.

The next room was simple, almost stark, with a larger, darker figure in the bed. Gazelle reached over to shake their shoulder.

Nia stirred, blinking up at her. “Elle...?”

“Sorry to disturb you, but...I need you.”

Confusion quickly gave way to concern on the coyote's face, and she gave a nod. Taking the antelope's proffered paw, she slipped from her bed, and accompanied them to their room, listening as they explained all that had happened. Entering the chamber, Gazelle trailed off at the sound of her phone ringing.

Frowning, not least at the many missed calls, she grabbed it. “Ray?”

“_We have a serious problem,”_ the tiger told her, grimly. _“Turn on your TV. ZNN.”_

The antelope grabbed her remote and turned on her flatscreen. The night anchors of ZNN, a jaguar and a tanuki, bloomed into being.

“_...and reports are now coming in of an incident outside the pop star's residence,”_ the jaguar related. _“Details are sketchy, but...”_

“_Incident?”_ Ray asked. _“Is that why you didn't answer?”_

Gazelle explained, as succinctly as she could. “Been a rough night.” A familiar voice fretted behind Ray's. “That's Ben, isn't it?”

“_Yes; we were getting to know each other better. Then we saw...well, here it comes...”_

“_To recap,”_ the tanuki stated, _“drone photos have emerged appearing to show Gazelle, her four tiger dancers, her personal assistant, a fawn, and officers Hopps and Wilde of the ZPD all nude at a beach earlier today. Considerable controversy has risen online over the veracity and potential meaning of the images, not least since the star was also seen to be spending the day at a luxury spa.”_

“_Within the last half an hour,” _the jaguar continued,_ “an abduction of someone strongly resembling Gazelle from her personal limousine was foiled by police outside her residence, an incident that will only serve to heighten the tumult now surrounding Zootopia's favourite singer.”_

Gazelle turned the TV off, starting to tremble. “Drone pictures? Of us at the beach? Of my _daughter_...?”

“_For what it's worth,”_ Ray told her, _“she's largely blurred.”_

“Small mercies,” the antelope responded, eyes wet. “Who could ever be so...so..._horrible_...?”

“_If we ever find out, they'll pay,”_ Ray vowed._ “Do you have any ideas for how to handle this?”_

Gazelle, paws clenching, breath shuddering, somehow forced herself to focus. “I...might do. I'll get back to you. Make sure Fred and Ral are aware, then try to get some sleep.”

“_All right. We all love you, Elle, no matter what. We'll stand by you.”_

“Thank you. Love you all, too.” The antelope ended the call. “If you'd kindly help me take off my make-up, Nia, I'd be much obliged. Haven't had the chance until now.”

The coyote didn't hesitate, carefully detaching Gazelle's hair, and with a little water rubbing the paint from her flank stripes, as she just sat for a long, long while, staring into the distance. Finally Elle, vulnerable but determined, took the canine's paws.

“I'd like you to do three more things for me. One: book an interview with ZNN first thing tomorrow. Two: get in contact with Carlos Purrez, and ask him if Project Dream is still active and viable; it should be, but I need to be _sure_.”

Nia nodded, with no hesitation. “And three?”

Elle's voice broke. “Hold me.”

The coyote sloughed her midnight blue nightdress, drew the antelope beneath the sheets, and clasped them close. “Whatever happens,” she whispered, “we're here. We believe in you.”

“Thank you.” Elle kissed her with a faint smile. “Let's hope you're not alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ada Swirlhorn has a strong basis in a real person; I'll leave you to work out who.


	4. The Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gazelle sits down with Fabienne Growley and Grey Redtail of ZNN for a difficult conversation. Contains references to another of my Zoofics, Second Chances. Also touches on sensitive themes.

Gazelle sat at the back of the the green room, eyes closed, paws folded neatly in her lap, one ear attuned to the two hosts in the studio – _“the last of the thieves whose attempted bank robbery devolved into a long and difficult stand-off with police is still on the loose”_ – but all the rest of the hustle and bustle around her filtered out.

The persistent low thrum of tension deep in her gut spiked more than a little when she heard the studio topic turn to her, but she still didn't move, not until footsteps stopped beside her, and a throat was cleared quietly, politely.

“Ms Gazelle? You're on in thirty seconds.”

The antelope stood, nodded thanks to the civet stagehand – getting a rather awestruck smile in response, which gave her confidence a small boost – took a long, long breath, smoothed her pearlescent blue dress, and started walking steadily, step by step, toward the studio. Pausing at the entrance, she took in the two hosts.

Fabienne Growley, poised and restrained and fully attentive, smartly clad in a lavender trouser suit. Grey Redtail, the fox squirrel, standing in for an ill Peter Moosebridge, glib and confident and a little too loud, a ball of tics in a slick navy suit. It was Grey who, something in his eyes that made her stomach lurch, announced her.

“Here to hopefully shed a little light on recent events, exclusively on ZNN, the increasingly controversial star herself...Gazelle.”

The antelope entered the bright, glossy, distractingly high-tech studio, and settled herself in the rather exposed chair set at an angle from the long, curving desk the hosts sat behind. She fixed her gaze on the pair with neck straight, paws in her lap again, and waited.

“Thank you for joining us,” Fabienne greeted, with a light smile.

Gazelle inclined her head with a guarded one of her own. “Thank you for having me.”

“So.” Redtail leaned forward, folding his hands. “We may as well start with the question on everyone's muzzle – was it you?”

Gazelle levelled a calm reply. “In the beach photos? Yes.”

Grey's tail twitched. “Then it was a...lookalike...at the spa?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because those are the lengths someone as...keenly observed as I am has to go to if they want to enjoy time in private. Sadly, even then you don't always succeed.”

“So it wasn't,” Redtail pressed, “a decoy for Cassandra Garanuug?”

Gazelle frowned. “_He_ was a _willing_ decoy for prying media eyes. I had no idea Cassandra was free until officers Hopps and Wilde told me. If I _had_ known beforehand, the excursions would never have taken place.”

“Would you mind sharing,” Fabienne asked, her softer tone helping to settle the antelope. “the reason for _your_ excursion? There's been a lot of...heated...speculation.”

“We were taking pictures for the cover and booklet of my upcoming album. And simply enjoying time together.”

Grey started to smirk. “It seems a rather...risqué new style, for you.”

Gazelle tilted her head just a bit. “Nude, Mr Redtail, is not inherently rude. It can mean many things. I wonder why you seem to struggle so much to see that?”

Grey's eyes narrowed. “And what does it mean in this instance?”

“This is comfortably the most personal album I've ever recorded. I'm opening myself up more completely than ever before, and it therefore seemed appropriate to symbolise that visually, to say, as clearly and as unequivocally as I could, this is me, purely as I am, nothing hidden.”

Redtail's paw slapped the desk, something predatory glittering in his eyes. “Ex_cept_...it appears you _have_ been hiding something. Something big. The fawn...is _yours_...isn't it?”

Gazelle bristled. “I do wish,” she responded, her tone pointed, “you'd refrain from referring to other mammals as 'it'.”

“I've no wish to presume gender.” Grey's tone verged on mocking.

“You know Mr Tineland's,” Fabienne observed, quietly.

Redtail flashed a glare her way, then turned it on Gazelle, tail flicking strongly. “I ask again: is the fawn yours?”

Gazelle exhaled. “Yes. She's my daughter.”

After a pause, Fabienne spoke up, and the antelope was surprised to hear what sounded a lot like sympathy in her tone. “Can I ask why you felt a need to keep her a secret?”

“Shame?” Grey interjected.

Gazelle leaned forward, eyes fixed on the squirrel. “I kept her a secret because I didn't want her to endure what I endure. I kept her a secret because I wanted her to live as freely, and as safely, as possible. I kept her a secret because I knew all too well there are mammals, mammals like _you_, Mr Redtail, who would intrude, and question, and harass, and judge, and _hurt_ her, and I could never, _ever_ tolerate that. She means more to me than anything, and I would do anything to protect her.”

Grey's tail flared. “I would _never_...”

“I distinctly recall,” Fabienne told him, a tightness in her voice, “a cub you reduced to tears because they wouldn't divulge any secrets about their famous parent.”

Redtail's paws clenched, muzzle working but nothing coming out. He eventually turned his deepening glower, and an increasingly aggressive tone, back onto Gazelle. “On the subject of secrets, your daughter isn't the only one you've been keeping, is it?”

The antelope took a moment before replying. “You're referring to my personal relationships?”

“Yes! If the photos are any indication, _you_” – Grey jabbed a finger at her – “are having an _affair _with your _female_ personal assistant!”

Gazelle stared at him for several seconds, then a flicker of a smile slid onto her muzzle. “One: that embrace was for one of the album photos, relating to a song with an intimate theme. Two: I'd have to be married or, at the very least, in a committed, monogamous relationship to be having an affair, so who do you believe I'm married to? Three: what, exactly, is the importance of my assistant's gender?”

“I'm not answering the questions here! _You_ are!” Both the squirrel's paws were planted hard on the desk as he reared up. ”And you need to answer _this_: what other _immoral_ things have you been up to?”

“If Ms Gazelle is immoral,” Fabienne observed, mildly, though with an acid edge, “then so am I.”

“What...?” Grey's eyes bugged at her. “_You_...?!”

“I have a girlfriend,” the snow leopard told him. “We kiss. A lot. We also spend a not inconsiderable amount of time intimately entwined. I say again, if Ms Gazelle is immoral, then so am I.”

Redtail, the insides of his ears reddening, opened his mouth, but shut it sharply again as something seemed to catch his eye. Gazelle risked a glance at the green room, to see a tall, imposing leopard swathed in a silkily expensive suit standing just inside, their arms crossed, their face stony, their narrowed eyes clearly fixed on the squirrel. Grey's muzzle writhed, then he sat back, arms crossed, eyes closed.

“Our apologies for that,” Fabienne murmured, smoothing her jacket with a nearly imperceptible release of breath. “Let me assure you, you are under no obligation to discuss your personal relationships.”

“Thank you.” Gazelle inclined her head. “But Mr Redtail is right in that I do owe people at least some explanation. I...” She mulled her words over for a moment. “Have a rather open approach to relationships, an approach some might term polyamorous, and am fortunate enough to have forged intimate bonds with several wonderful mammals. I chose to keep this a secret because...” Her eyes drifted to Redtail, who hadn't moved. “There are people who wouldn't understand or even tolerate it and, to be frank, it's nobody's business but ours.”

“I understand.” Fabienne smiled. “Since we're approaching the end of our allotted time, just one more question: what n-”

“Next for someone who's just been kicked off their label?” Grey broke in, eyes snapping open, but otherwise remaining motionless.

“I wasn't kicked off,” Gazelle corrected. “In fact, they were extremely reluctant to let me go, in spite of everything – I was worth too much to them, I suppose - but I was fortunate enough to have once had a quite brilliant assistant who helped me secure a breakaway clause when my contract was last renewed. I left of my own volition.”

“To do what?” Redtail pressed. “I doubt another label would take you on, now.”

“I'm launching my own.” Gazelle took no small amount of pleasure in the flabbergasted look that crossed the squirrel's face. “It should be up and running in just a few weeks.”

“That's..impressive,” Fabienne remarked, eyes a little wider. “How-”

“Is that even possible?!” Grey blurted out, arms crossed.

“Because much of the groundwork was done several years ago, with the support of the same brilliant assistant. My equally brilliant current assistant is now helping me draw everything together, and finalise it. A label of my own has been a long-term dream, and very soon, it'll come true. I can only hope things work out.”

“When most record shops won't stock your album? Unlikely,” Redtail snorted, derision clear in his eyes.

“We live in the digital age, Mr Redtail,” Gazelle responded, simply. “I hope you'll join us, some time.” She couldn't help grinning inwardly at the spark that lit Fabienne's eyes in response.

“To be fair,” the snow leopard noted, “it _is_ a risk.”

“A big one,” Gazelle agreed. “The biggest one of my career, by far, but it's one I feel I have to take. I'll succeed or fail on my own terms, and I can't complain about that.”

“You'll fail.” Grey's stare was corrosive. “Zootopia's done with you.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Gazelle remained unruffled. “We'll find out in a few weeks.”

“We will, indeed.” Fabienne inclined her head. “For now, we have to draw this interview to a close. Thank you, again, for speaking to us.”

“Thank you, again, for having me.”

“This has been Fabienne Growley...”

“And Grey Redtail.” There was audible discontent in his voice.

“With a ZNN special interview. After the break, sports with Sam, and weather with Alistair. We'll see you again on the hour with the latest headlines. Until then, goodbye.”

A pause, one anchor smiling professionally at the cameras, the other all but glaring, then the squirrel dropped from his chair and headed to the still-looming, still-stony executive, defiance in his manner. Gazelle and Fabienne remained seated until both were long out of earshot, the latter with her head cradled in her paws, the former working briskly on her small laptop.

On finishing, she closed it up, stood, moved round the desk, and held out a paw. “Come to my office for a while. You can recover in peace, and I'll get you whatever you feel like drinking.”

Gazelle rose, taking and shaking the hand. “Thank you.”

Fabienne led her out of the studio's other exit, across the huge space of the main newsroom, and into their office. “Take a seat, and tell me what you'd like to drink. Tea, coffee, water? Something stronger?”

“Just water, please,” Gazelle requested, sinking into a chair. “I'll keep the stronger stuff for later.”

“All right; I'll be back in a minute.” She reappeared in slightly less than that, handing the antelope a glass of water, and sat next to them with one of sherry. “I know I shouldn't when I'm working, but it's light, and Grey always leaves me needing fortification.”

“Fully understandable.” Smiling faintly, Gazelle sipped her water.

“I'd like to apologise, personally, for his behaviour. He's always been confrontational, but that was far too much.”

“It's all right,” the antelope assured her. “In a strange way he actually helped me; gave me something to fight against.” She loosed a wry little grin. “Although, from the expression on that executive's face, he didn't help himself much.”

Fabienne's answering grin was wider, and tinged with relish. “Oh, he'll have a _big_ fire lit under his tail, for sure, and there's even a possibility, considering how much scrutiny ZNN have been under recently, he'll be given his marching orders.”

Gazelle's manner softened. “The stalker incident?”

The snow leopard nodded, ears dropping just a fraction. “A couple of very important, very officious mammals loudly wondering why, exactly, an organisation as reputable and as esteemed as ZNN would employ a mammal as clearly unstable and dangerous as Cyrus Rudderly.” A long sigh fell loose. “That he showed no real signs until _I_ brought them out of him doesn't seem to register.”

Gazelle took up their paw, and used one of hers to gently angle their face toward her. “_You_ didn't bring them out. They were always there, just waiting for a trigger. It just _happened_ to be you.”

Fabienne managed a smile. “I forget. You've had a few stalkers, too.”

The antelope nodded. “I know how hard it is not to blame yourself for what they do, but have no doubt, _all_ the blame is theirs.”

The snow leopard's smile turned a little watery. “Thank you.”

“The least I could do. You stuck your neck out for me just now, even knowing there could be repercussions.”

“I doubt it'll be more than a rap on the knuckles, especially given my recent difficulties, and I'll take it happily.” Fabienne squeezed the other female's paw. “I respect and admire you far too much to stand by and let you be treated like that, and besides, I've had to stomach his casual bigotry for days, now. _Something_ was going to give.”

Gazelle gave her widest smile yet. “Officer Fangmeyer truly is lucky to have you.”

Fabienne started, then laughed, ears a little red. “I know you've met her, but how...?”

“Her partner has no concept of tact. He didn't outright say it, but his less-than-subtle hints were enough to make a good guess.”

“Ah, Wolford.” The snow leopard grinned. “No filter whatsoever. And if anyone's lucky, it's me. She's all I could ever have asked for, and so much more.” She sat up a little. “Recently, someone somehow got into my garden and took pictures of me modelling nude for Lina through a window. She _tore_ outside, caught them, broke their phone, and bodily _threw_ them over the wall, then came back inside and spent a full hour making the most ridiculous fuss of me.”

Gazelle's head canted, eyes widening. “You too?”

Fabienne nodded. “Another reason I couldn't stay neutral just now. I can sympathise. I hope you catch your voyeur soon, by the way.”

The antelope chuckled, just a touch darkly. “Officers Hopps and Wilde have ample motivation to hunt them down, and some good leads.”

“I almost feel sorry for them. Almost.” Fabienne drank the last of her sherry, and stood. “As much as I'm enjoying this, I have some headlines to read, so I'm afraid...”

Gazelle rose too. “Of course, and likewise. In fact, I'd be happy to talk again. Meet again.”

Fabienne stepped forward to hug her lightly. “You really are an angel.”

The antelope returned it. “People keep telling me that, but I'm really not. I just do my best.”

“Exactly.” Fabienne proffered her phone. “Add in a number you're all right with me calling.”

Gazelle did just that, and labelled it 'Elle'. “My closest friends call me that, and I'm hoping I can come to count you as one. Lina, too. Right now...” Her smile shaded wan. “I can use all the friends I can get.”

Fabienne clasped her paw. “Likewise, and for what it's worth, I don't believe Zootopia's done with you. True, people can be fickle, but they can be loyal, too. And forgiving. You just...need to keep being honest with them, make sure they _know_ you're being as open as possible.”

“Don't worry.” Something close to a full Gazelle smile grew. “I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grey Redtail owes more than a little to a real-life media personality with a knack for antagonising pretty much everyone. Again, I'll leave you to guess who.
> 
> Also, a digital cookie to anyone who spots the sly reference I slipped in.


	5. The Reckoning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some darkness, a drop of blood, and references to other Zootopia stories of mine, including one I'm sure no-one is going to spot. Savannah logo created by me.

Fangmeyer beckoned Wilde to join her. The fox strolled over, jumped lithely onto her canteen table, and settled cross-legged with his tray on his lap, tail curled around his knee.

“Something up?” he asked, lifting a brow.

The tiger laid her phone on the table; it displayed a social media post, an image of a sky blue van sized for large mammals, with blacked out windows and a gold silhouette shaped like a square of tufted grass on its side. “This showed up in the car park behind the Warren Building, twenty minutes ago. Same symbol that's been filling her giant sign for the last week, and the same colours.”

Nick frowned. “Which suggests whatever it's been counting down to is happening in the plaza.”

“Exactly. Am I alone in having a bad feeling about this?”

“No.” Wilde's ears were flat back. “She _could_ just have hired a couple of mammals to put on a bit of razzle dazzle, a harmless little stunt, but somehow...somehow I doubt it.”

“She'd not have been so secretive if that were the case,” Fangmeyer agreed. “You think she's in the van?”

Wilde nodded, scrolling through posts on his own phone. “I'd wager my salary on it.” His frown deepened. “I just hope she knows what she could be walking into. Between Zootopia's self-appointed guardians of morals, and Grey 'I hate everyone but especially her as I blame her for being fired by ZNN even though it was my own petty little tantrum that did it' Redtail, things are likely to be pretty hostile out there...”

“There's support, too,” the tiger countered. “Quite a bit, actually.”

“True,” Nick acquiesced, “but it only needs a few to cause trouble.”

“Or one.” Fangmeyer sagged. “If Cassandra's still alive...”

“You've not found a trace of her, right?”

“Right. Like she blipped out of existence.”

“Then chances are she didn't make it out of the river. Even if she did, the odds of her going for Gazelle in the middle of a crowded plaza are tiny. Even she's not _that_ desperate.”

“Wish I could be so confident.” Fangmeyer swallowed the last of her lunch, then straightened up. “Clawhauser's coming.”

Nick looked round. “What's up, Ben?”

The cheetah slumped against their table, panting heavily. “We...really need...to get...an intercom...system...”

“It does seem an oversight,” Wilde concurred.

Clawhauser pushed himself upright. “The chief wants you both in the briefing room, ASAP.” He wrung his paws. “It's about Elle.”

“Waste of a passable meal,” Nick sighed, with half a smirk. Fluidly, he dropped from the table. “Feel free to finish it off, Ben.” He patted their chest, turning serious. “And I promise we'll look after her.”

“Thank you.” Clawhauser flashed a bright, if anxious smile, then took up Wilde's tray, and practically slid its contents right down his throat.

The fox and the tiger made all haste to the briefing room, where they found Hopps, Wolford, and a visibly tense and frustrated Bogo.

“I presume,” he began, “I don't need to tell you what's brewing right outside our door?”

Four shakes of the head.

“Then I'll cut right to it. Since Ms Gazelle saw fit not to _tell anyone of her plans_” – he ground this out through a clenched jaw – “we weren't able to prepare. And, since apparently my headaches can always find a way to get bigger, the only officers we have immediately available to police this gathering...are the four of you.”

“The only ships in the quadrant,” Nick commented, drily.

“I'll make every effort,” Bogo continued, pointedly ignoring Wilde,” to pull in more mammals, but the chances are you'll be handling most if not all of this alone. I am _painfully_ aware that the simple presence of Hopps and Wilde could provoke certain mammals, so, as hard as it may be, I stress the need for tact, restraint and not allowing your personal beliefs or your sympathy for Ms Gazelle to cloud your judgement. The priority here is the safety of _everyone_. Understood?”

“Yes,” four voices responded.

“To that end, you will not be issued tranqs or tasers; the less chance of sparking the tinderbox, the better. Stay alert, stay in touch, stay on top of things, and we might just make it through this. Dismissed.”

The quartet saluted and filed out, crossed the foyer, watched by a still anxious Clawhauser, and stepped outside. It was a chilly day, the sky swept with wan grey clouds, and a nippy little breeze chasing through, the kind of conditions that normally meant less mammals in the plaza, but today, it was heaving.

Hundreds of people had gathered, many in knots and threads, all the way across the plaza, bunching thickest in the lee of the huge sign that ran the length of the Warren building. Most of it was washed sky blue, the faintest hint of a familiar silhouette visible; in the centre sat a gold grass symbol, framing green numerals steadily counting down. Twelve minutes remained.

Trained eyes were quickly drawn to the two largest groups, a cluster of various species clutching placards, gathered around a haughty puma holding court, and a tight knot of dozens of tiny mammals, nervously watching the much larger ones moving around them, as well as a lone, unnervingly still muntjac cradling something in a plastic bag.

Fangmeyer took charge. “I'll deal with the protestors, and I'd suggest Hopps secures the rodents, Wilde checks on the suspicious deer, and Wolford monitors the van. Any objections?”

None were given. The officers split up, threading their separate ways through the crowd. Nick carefully worked closer to the muntjac, who remained motionless, their gaze locked on the giant sign. He'd gotten within fifteen feet, and had paused to consider how to proceed, when their head abruptly snapped round, eyes wide, one paw snapping into the bag, almost drawing the contents out. Then they bolted.

Wilde gave chase, but the compact deer outdistanced him so quickly it soon proved pointless. The last he saw of them was their sprinting figure vanishing between the museum and City Hall. He thumbed his radio, ears back in a frown. “Wilde. The deer ran, too fast to catch.”

“_Well, that's not suspicious at all,”_ Wolford piped up.

“_Did you see what they were holding?”_ Fangmeyer asked.

“No, but the way they went for it on seeing me makes me worry.”

“_Ring it in to base,”_ the tiger ordered. _“Might be nothing, but there's no point taking chances. Everyone, eyes peeled in case they return.”_

Wilde did so, and barely was he done than Wolford was reporting in.

“_No sign of life from the van,”_ he related. _“There's a fair-sized crowd around, but no-one's getting too clo...no, wait.”_ He sighed. _“Someone's just picked up a stone. One moment.”_

“How very original,” Nick drawled. “I'm gonna scout around a bit, see if anyone else catches my eye.”

“_All right,”_ Fangmeyer concurred.

“_Would-be stone-thrower sent away with tail between legs,”_ Wolford radioed in. _“And found a nice spot to keep watch. Moment something happens, I'll let you know.”_

Things fell quiet for a few minutes, as Wilde described a rough circle around the small central park. He made a point of passing Fangmeyer, who was looking increasingly frustrated as she failed to get through to the leader of the protestors, and Hopps, who'd managed to gather the tiny mammals on a collection of stone platforms close to the watering hole in the middle of the park, where they'd be safer, and get a better view of proceedings. The fox was passing the Central Station when the stunned, disbelieving voice of Wolford came over the radio.

“_Er, guys...you'll never, ever believe this, but...”_ They trailed off.

“_But what?”_ Judy pressed.

“_But Gazelle has just stepped out of the van, and...well...”_

“_Spit it out, Wolfy,”_ Fangmeyer prompted, impatiently.

“_She's naked.”_

“She's WHAT?!” all three of the others yelped.

“_Naked. Nude. In the fur. Sans clothes. Au naturelle. Wearing only a smile. And she's heading for the plaza.”_

“Is she alone?” Wilde asked, dazed.

“_She's got one of her dancers for company, following her, and he does __**not**__ look happy.”_

“_Don't blame him one bit.”_ Fangmeyer groaned. _“How are the crowds reacting?”_

“_Stunned silence. They're having as much trouble believing their eyes as I am, I think. Still managing to work their phone cameras, though.”_

“_Tail her,”_ Fangmeyer instructed. _“I'll run this by the Chief, and hope he doesn't blow too many fuses. Hopps, Wilde: regroup with me near her sign; I've a feeling that's where she'll end up.”_

A chorus of confirmations, Wilde already starting to move. So were a great many of the crowd, as the news flashed across social media. He quickly found himself ducking and weaving to keep moving, and by the time he met up with Judy near a spiral monument they had little room to breathe. Fangmeyer appeared a moment later, muzzle contorted.

“If you hear a loud banging from the direction of HQ,” she told them, voice tight, “that's the Chief's head thumping his desk to splinters.”

Hopps winced. “Yeeaah, this must be pret-ty awkward. The rules on public nudity aren't exactly straightforward.”

“Understatement.” Wilde was rubbing his forehead. “They're a mess of confusion and contradictions. Did he give any orders, or just scream incoherently?”

“For now, just watch. He _believes_ she _should_ be all right under artistic freedom laws, depending on what she does. We're to ensure no-one gets too close, and keep a particularly keen eye on the protestors. We only approach Gazelle if absolutely necessary. Speaking of...”

The tigress lifted the smaller officers onto a shoulder apiece, and they watched in uniform incredulity as one of the most prominent figures in all of Zootopia walked peacefully out from the road between the Mall and the Warren Building, and into the plaza, as naked as a member of the Mystic Spring.

She seemed unaffected by the chilly conditions, and unconcerned by the massed mammals whispering, gaping, staring, and taking pictures, her posture relaxed, a gentle smile gracing her muzzle. Ray trailed her a few feet behind, his camera in his paws, a deeply disquieted look on his face, his body tense, his eyes sharply watchful.

Gazelle drew to a halt, at a point roughly equidistant between the tall monument, the museum, and the Warren Building, right as her sign's countdown reached two minutes left. She stood openly, calmly, arms at her side, eyes closed, while the tiger took up position ten feet back, his tail swaying restlessly.

The crowd quickly formed a circle twenty feet in diameter around the singer, the officers spreading out along its perimeter, Judy guarding a knot of small mammals, Wolford almost directly behind Ray, Nick by a clutch of particularly over-excited people, and Fangmeyer right where the protestors were gathering.

An expectant, anxious hush fell as the clock ticked below a minute, all eyes on the antelope. At thirty seconds, Nick was quick to stop one of the excited fans rushing forwards, herding them back with a stern look and a slowly shaking head. At ten, Fangmeyer barred the leader of the protestors from striding forward, coolly ignoring the affronted huff she got in response.

When the timer finally reached zero, it faded away, and the silhouette filling the sign swelled into a full, colossal image of Gazelle standing in the nude, on sand, the sun behind her smiling head, glittering slivers of Zootopia seeming to rest on what little was visible of her outstretched arms, fetters lying forgotten between her feet, the square of golden grass now glowing between her horns at the top. A fair proportion of the crowd gasped at the sight.

The real Gazelle's eyes slid open. She looked to the right, then to the left, then behind her, then finally a warm, slightly self-conscious smile spread across her muzzle. “Good afternoon.” Despite not sounding like it was raised, her friendly voice still carried over most of the plaza. “My name is Gazelle Isabel Moreno Ramírez, and I believe in Zootopia.”

A confusion of murmurs rippled through the massed mammals, while from right behind Fangmeyer came a derisive snort.

“I believe in this city so deeply, in fact,” the antelope continued, “that I'm willing to fully entrust myself to it, to you, confident I'll come to no harm. I'm yours, Zootopia. Do with me as you see fit.”

“What?!” Nick wheezed, incredulous, tensing for an onslaught. “A-are you _crazy_?!”

“Maybe,” Gazelle admitted, but after a few moments had elapsed and nothing had happened, added, “but maybe not.”

The four officers looked around; every mammal present appeared to be waiting for someone else to move first. They twitched, they shifted in place, they glanced around, they conversed uneasily, but not one of them stepped forwards. Not even the puma budged, as much as they seemed to want to, just stood with face writhing.

Then a cub lynx wriggled free of his father's grasp, and bounded over to the antelope. She didn't react at all, beyond a small widening of her smile, even when the child reached toward her, slowly, tentatively, his eyes watching her nervously. Finally, his hand settled on her belly, his fingers splayed, one brushing her navel, and when she still didn't react, just kept smiling, his face lit up.

Precedent set, other mammals started moving in, some quickly, some slowly, among them the puma, Fangmeyer and Judy. The first to reach Gazelle was a coyote who was practically licking his lips; he paused for a couple of seconds, one hand half-lifted, relish in his eyes.

“I won't stop you,” the antelope told him, evenly, “but I will ask you to reconsider. It'll do you no good.”

The canine hesitated, grin faltering just a little. “You said, 'do with me as you see fit'.”

“Doesn't mean you should.” Judy interposed herself pretty firmly, her arms crossed.

The coyote snorted, even as he wavered more. “And _you'll_ stop me?”

“I once knocked out a rhino,” the rabbit responded, placidly.

The canine's tail dropped at least a foot. “You're bluffing.”

Judy spun on her heel, smiling sweetly at a bison who'd been striding up, rubbing their paws. “Care to help me show this silly fellow just how wrong he is?”

The bison froze mid-stride, their gaze descending to the relatively tiny rabbit; there was a beat of silence as naked horror spread across their face, then they turned and bolted, the crowds scattering around them as they went. Judy sighed, shook her head, chuckled, and looked back to the coyote, to see him retreating, too.

A number of other mammals followed suit, while several slowed their approach, warily watching the rabbit and the tiger. Some didn't check themselves at all, more paws coming to rest on Gazelle's form, on her back, her stomach, her legs, her arms, her neck, and one between her horns, but none on the more sensitive areas.

Before long she was surrounded by mammals of all sizes, Hopps and Fangmeyer forced to fall back just a little, joining Wilde and Wolford in scanning the crowd for any flickers of trouble. A suddenly excited Ray circled the cluster, taking pictures from every possible angle, while the puma prowled back and forth, tail twitching.

Abruptly, before anyone could stop them, they pushed forwards, into the cluster, prying and shoving mammals away until they stood before an unperturbed Gazelle.

“If you think you're going to get away with this,” they seethed, teeth slightly bared, “think again. This tawdry publicity stunt won't wash.”

“Get away with what?” the antelope asked, calmly. “To the best of my knowledge I'm breaking no laws, and if I were, I'm sure the upstanding officers present wouldn't hesitate to act.”

“Upstanding off...” The puma's eyes bugged. “Two of them were part of your depraved debauchery on the beach!”

“Collecting shells is debauchery, now?” Wilde materialised beside the puma, his expression politely enquiring. “If this is the sort of legislation your group pushes so loudly for, no wonder the law's a tad muddled.”

“I meant cavorting around n...nu....not wearing anything! It's sick and wrong and so many impressionable young mammals saw it!”

“Because a spy drone filmed us, violating our privacy. Why aren't you angry about that? And why can't you even say the word 'nude'?” Nick shook his head gently. “I'm actually a little sorry for you.”

Steam was practically firing from the puma's ears. “I am _trying_ to save the people of this city from things they should never have to see, and if you, an officer of the law, can't see that...”

“Things the people of this city should never have to see?” Wilde tilted his head thoughtfully. “Soo, you advocate for the wearing of blindfolds in the shower, while changing, and while relieving yourself, correct?”

“No, that's ridiculous...”

“But then people will be seeing those things you believe they should never have to see, since we all possess them, so...”

“I meant other people's things!”

“Ah, okay. Then, no medical examinations, no bathing your baby, no changing rooms so little to no sport or recreation, and definitely no sex of any kind. That correct?”

“Wha...? I...bu...” The puma was reduced to incoherent stammering and flailing gestures. Finally, they flung their paws up and stormed off, tugging at their ears.

Wilde sighed and shrugged. “And there was I hoping for a stimulating debate. Ah, well.”

“Good going, Slick!” Judy praised him. “You tied her in knots!”

“To be fair,” the fox demurred, “she did most of that herself.”

“She was right about one thing, though,” Gazelle told them. “This _is_ a publicity stunt, at least partly. I _do_ have a new album and a new label to promote, after all. On which note...”

Judy held up a paw, her ears snapping taut, and swivelling. “It'll have to wait; trouble approaching.”

“Where from?” Nick clicked into full alertness.

Judy pointed. “Difficult to be sure with the crowds, though. Maybe if I got some height I could pinpoint them.” Her gaze drifted to Gazelle as she spoke, a question in her eyes.

The antelope nodded. The rabbit shimmied with lightning fluidity up their flank to stand on their shoulders, one paw gripping a horn, other shielding her eyes as she looked around.

“There!” Judy pointed again, much more certain this time. “Can't see who it is, though; they're too...wait...” Her ears wilted slightly. “It's the muntjac, and I think they've got a tranq gun in that bag...”

Fangmeyer sprang to life. “Wilde, you and I'll flank them. Hopps, you direct us. Wolford, eyes peeled for any other trouble. Move.”

Judy guiding them, the fox and the tiger worked through the crowds, moving out then back in, converging on their target. Nick spotted the muntjac a second before they saw him; he twisted and ducked as they pulled their weapon from their bag, but it was swatted away by a huge striped paw before they could fire.

As Fangmeyer secured the deer, Wilde grabbed the gun, examining it quickly. “Mega-fauna strength,” he reported, a chill running the length of his spine. “If they'd hit Gazelle with this...”

“She might not have woken up,” the tiger finished for him, grimly. “I'll take our new friend in, you...”

Fangmeyer was drowned out by screams and shouts erupting around them, mammals fleeing in ragged panic. Heads jerking round in unison they both felt their stomachs lurch on seeing, right by Gazelle and Judy in the centre of a rapidly-clearing area, the slumped, motionless form of Wolford, and the quivering, bedraggled one of Cassandra grasping a long and blemished knife in one paw.

The tiger activated her radio, while motioning for Wilde to try moving closer. Keeping hold of the tranq gun, the fox started creeping towards the gerenuk, angling himself to approach from directly behind her. He got within ten feet, and drew up, gaze drifting back and forth between the antelope and the weapon he held. Cassandra suddenly jerking the knife in Gazelle's direction saw him raising the gun.

“Don't!” The latter pleaded, holding up a hand. “Please don't. I want to talk to her.”

Nick faltered. “I'm not sure she wants to talk to you...”

“Chief says stand down!” Fangmeyer called over. “Let them talk. He'll be the one to take action, if necessary. Hopps, you clear out too.”

“Understood.” Wilde lowered the gun, and took a step back. Feeling confused, he looked to the ZPD, and ice stole down his spine on seeing a familiar, imposing figure standing on the building's roof, a rifle held in their paws. “Oh, no...”

“Cassandra,” Gazelle told the other antelope, only the very faintest of tremors in her voice, ignoring the rabbit sliding down her back to make a quick, quiet retreat, “I'm listening.”

“YOU RUINED ME!” The gerenuk's voice was harsh, strained, close to hysterical. “Sabotaged me! Stole my SONG!”

“Your song...?” Gazelle's brow furrowed deeply. “What song?”

“Hoof Beats!” Cassandra gestured wildly with the knife, her tattered, stained shift tearing further. “You stole Hoof Beats! The best song on my album! The best song I ever wrote! The-the song that should have made me a _star_!”

“Hoof Beats?” Gazelle's eyes flicked back and forth as her mind raced to understand. “My manager brought me that song, said i-it was being shopped around, and he thought it suited me, so we bought it. But...if it was _your_ song, then how...?”

“I don't know.” Cassandra breathed heavily, her eyes still ablaze. “All I know is that one day the sheet music and the lyrics and the demo had vanished, then another day _you're singing it_! You _stole_ it!”

“I didn't, Cassandra; I had no _idea_ it was yours. If I had, I'd never have bought it, let alone sung it. Tell me...what did Ada think of it?”

For the first time, the gerenuk faltered slightly. “She hated it. Said it didn't fit the album. Wasn't...wasn't the right tone. She...” She choked up, looking down. “Wouldn't let me sing it.”

“Then...doesn't it make sense that _she_ took the song? Gave it or sold it to someone to get rid of it, someone who happened to then sell it to my manager and me?”

Cassandra swallowed, thickly, then gave a small, jerky nod. “It does.”

“Was that...” Gazelle took a short step forward. “When she started to hurt you?”

The gerenuk's head snapped up, anger in the writhing of her muzzle and the clenching of her free paw. “She hurt me from the moment she took me on, and didn't stop 'til she was dead.” She slashed the air with the knife. “I-I wanted to kill her myself, but...but I was too scared. She had that gun, and...”

“And I know how willing she was to use it.” Gazelle's head sank, eyes tight and muzzle twitching. “I...I could have stopped her. I _should_ have stopped her, then maybe...”

“If you'd tried,” Cassandra responded, voice leaden, “the second shot wouldn't have missed.” She tore off her shift and threw it aside, so all of the scars that marked her torso were fully visible. “And I'd still have ended up like this. Or worse.”

“Doesn't make me feel any less guilty.” Gazelle took another step and held out her paw. “I want to help you, Cassandra. You deserve another chance. A _real_ chance.”

The gerenuk's head cocked, confusion and worry and even a little fear warring on her face. “E-even after what I did to Purrez?”

“He's willing to forgive you, and move on, and so am I.” Gazelle's paw didn't waver. “I have my own label, now. I can sign you up, we can get Hoof Beats back, make it _yours_, like it always should have been, like it always _was_, and you can record your own album. You can be _you_, not what Ada Swirlhorn twisted you into.”

Cassandra choked again, shaking her head, trembling. She wavered a long time, then a paw flashed out, toward the other antelope's; it just happened to be the one holding the knife. It fell back, she wavered for another long moment, then lunged fully forwards. A split second after the knife fell from her grasp, a thunderous _crack_ rang out; the gerenuk jerked with a gasp, and collapsed heavily against the other antelope.

Gazelle fell to her knees, holding the unresponsive Cassandra, fingers failing to staunch the red welling in the fur of their flank, her ears limp as tears welled in her eyes and her voice cracked. “No. Please, please, no. Stay. Stay, Cassandra. Stay with me.”

She continued to cradle them as bedlam reigned around her, shouting and running and screaming, not even registering the small grey rabbit yelling into their radio and the fox checking for a pulse and the tigress kneeling over the still immobile wolf, and the tall, powerful, hollowed out figure pacing heavily toward her in the distance.

“Stay with me...”

The room was small, four wall-mounted bulbs casting a low light that shadowed in the corners, bookcases lined with well-thumbed books on music and history and art interspersed with fixtures that held a broad range of well-loved stringed instruments, and two comfortably creased armchairs and a deeply patinaed table sitting in the middle.

One was occupied by Nia, her midnight blue robe untied and open, a phone in one paw, her anxious eyes fixed on it. Resting in the other, a little dwarfed by it, was Judy, still in her uniform, twiddling her paws as she watched the last occupant of the room. Gazelle, still nude, still in a visibly unkempt state, stared silently out of the window, ears twitching every time the coyote's mobile jingled.

A call came through, and the tension in the room jumped, all eyes on Nia as she answered. The conversation was brief, and inscrutable, and when it ended, the canine closed her eyes and sighed.

“She'll live.”

Gazelle sagged, her relief palpable, as the tension melted away. She crossed to the coyote, knelt by their chair, embraced them and kissed their cheek. “Maybe there is some mercy in this world, after all.”

“Maybe so. Somehow, the bullet hit nothing vital. They say, all going well, she should be out of hospital within a week, and fully healed in a couple of months. Physically, at least. Officer Wolford's fine too; just a light concussion, despite being floored by a fleeing polar bear.”

“Gracias a las estrellas,” Gazelle breathed. “Does Chief Bogo know?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” She looked to Judy. “Hard as it may be to believe, I bear him no ill will. He made a choice in an awful situation. My only question is why him, when Nick had the tranq gun?”

“Partly because even a mega-fauna tranq takes a few seconds to kick in,” Judy explained, “and every second counts, and partly...because he didn't think Nick had it in him to actually pull the trigger.”

“From what I know of Mr Wilde, I tend to agree.” Standing again, she moved to Judy, the rabbit looking a little subdued. “May I join you?”

“Of course.” Judy readily agreed. “How?”

The antelope's response was to pick them up, settling them in her lap as she sat down, arms loosely around their waist. “We'll have to delay the concert,” she noted to Nia, quietly.

The coyote nodded. “And hope she says yes.”

“Concert?” Judy enquired. “Is that what you were going to announce before...everything?”

“Yes. A concert to mark the release of my new album, Unfettered, on my new label, Savannah. I was hoping, perhaps a little naively, to have Cassandra make a guest appearance.”

“Well, people said I was naïve for thinking I could be a cop.” Judy told her. “Yet here I am.”

“Indeed.” Gazelle smiled, gently. “If you don't try...” Her smile grew on observing how the rabbit's eyes kept flicking to a particular instrument mounted on the wall. “You like my banjo?”

Judy started, then nodded. “It's almost identical to mine.”

“You're musical?” Gazelle started to light up. “That's _wonderful_! Are you any good?”

“Well, my family thinks I am, but they're my family, so...” Judy gave a wry chuckle and a small shrug. “I've not played it since I left home and moved to Zootopia, though. If Nick knew I played the banjo he'd never stop taking the hick out of me.”

“I'd like to think Mr Wilde was better than that.” Gazelle's eyes were wide and bright. “And I'm sure it'll be easy to shake off the rust.”

“Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?” Nia asked.

“We might just have found another special guest!” Gazelle grinned.

Judy's eyes bugged. “You want  _ me _ ...?”

“If you're willing. It won't be a large concert – only a thousand or so people, maybe two – not after everything that's happened, and all that Mr Redtail, among others, are still doing to foment things, but I would prefer it if you were nude, too.”

“A _nude_ concert?” Judy swallowed. “It makes sense, considering, but I'm _really_ not sure I'm ready to be bare-doe naked in front of so many strangers, let alone playing a banjo at the same time...”

“Think about it,” Gazelle encouraged. “Maybe visit the Mystic Spring to see how you get on.”

“Nick I were debating going there,” the rabbit admitted. “Guess now I have all the more reason. You won't be offended if I say no?”

“Not in the slightest,” the antelope reassured her. “You, Nick, Lina and Fabi are all my honoured guests, regardless...” Her ears twitched as the shine in her eyes brightened another degree. “Wait...doesn't Fabi play the piano...?”

Judy laughed. “This is shaping up to be quite a show.”

“If I'm going out, I'm going out in style, and if I'm _really_ lucky...” The Gazelle smile surfaced fully. “This'll be a whole new beginning...”


End file.
